This Side of the Wardrobe: England's Story
by shadowchild25
Summary: A look into missing moments of the Narnian series, from this side of the wardrobe. Originally written as paired bookends for the latter movies of the series. VDT/SB/MN/LB/HHB sequence. Spoilers for all...
1. The Magician's Nephew pt 1

**Hey all, this is another book to movie adaptation short (sort of a missing sequence in the books that can be played out to the fullest in the movies), part of a series, this one assuming a VDT/SC/MN/LB/HHB timeline for the movies (Odd, yes, but I have my reasons. And even C.S. Lewis himself will admit that the books weren't born in either chronological order or publication order. I truly appreciate that now with the original novel I've been working on for the past year... or should I say novels?).**

**The Magician's Nephew**

Edmund Pevensie was lost in his thoughts, staring at the ceiling above his bed. He both knew he was in a trance, and was completely unaware that there was anything strange going on. In his mind, he was seeing a fight on horseback, two strong warriors battling with shields and swords, indistinguishable except for the brief flashes of their hair. "You're going to have to do better than that, Ed!" Peter called, before Ed got past his defenses and landed a blow to the arm that would have dented the metal if Edmund had lost his temper. Peter backed up quickly. "Good enough for you?" Edmund grinned.

Peter grimaced back, and the fight began again in earnest.

On his bed back in England, Edmund Pevensie, the books of law he'd been studying laying open on the bed next to him, watched his memories with a mischeivious smile gracing his lips.

That was probably why he didn't hear the doorbell, though he'd been waiting for it. In the hallway, Lucy called "Edmund!" but didn't stop to wait on his answer. She barreled down the stairs to the front door and threw it open. "Peter!" she cried to her elder brother, jumping into his arms. He laughed and twirled her around on the front step, crushing her to him.

"Thou art taller, and more beautiful, every time we meet," he murmured in her ear, a private word in the noble speech of their past. "Missed me, have you Lu?" he said loudly, for the sake of the two younger children who waited, patient and amused, behind him.

"Very much, Peter," she replied, "I'm so glad you're home, even if it's only for the weekend," she glanced up the stairs, as if expecting Edmund to come running down. "I don't believe Ed heard the door, or he'd have come running."

Peter stared up the stairs with her, his smile not fading in the least. "I'll give him a proper greeting shortly. Meanwhile, I hope we haven't appeared too rude to our guests," he said to his sister, gesturing to the other two, waiting behind him.

Lucy flushed and looked around him, and her eyes went wide with delight. "Eustace," she cried, rushing to him and throwing her arms around him. "I didn't think you'd be able to come," she turned to the girl standing next to him. "You must be Jill! It's so nice to meet you." And even though Jill had put out her hand to shake Lucy's, Lucy enveloped Jill in a warm embrace. "I so enjoyed the stories Eustace told us, I was hoping we'd be able to meet."

Eustace grinned at Jill, who looked thoroughly nonplussed, though not displeased. "She does that, though in the past, when I was quite beastly, she was more repelled by me than apt to give me such a fond embrace."

"Well, as you said, you were beastly. I feel as though I already know Jill, from your stories. He talks about you an awful lot," she said to Jill, who blushed. "I'm so glad he had someone so nice to share Narnia with."

"He talks a lot about you four as well, and has told me so many wonderful stories." Jill gushed back, grinning at her friend.

"That's the point, is it not? The stories? Oh Peter, you guys are running a bit late, we must go get Edmund and hurry up or we'll be late and we'll upset Professor Kirke and his friend!"

"What about Su?" Peter asked brightly, looking away and not catching the dismayed look on Lucy's face. "I'll go get her," he decided, striding into the house, putting down his and Jill's things and hurrying up the stairs. Eustace put his own things down, and looked to Lucy.

"Should Jill and I go get Edmund, while you help Peter with Susan?"

"Yes, that would be good, though I have a feeling we'll need Edmund in this one as well," she replied sadly.

As Lucy hurried towards Susan's room, she heard two things happen at once. One was Edmund's joyful shout of "Eustace!" and the other was Peter's angry shout of "Susan!"

She hurried into the room.

Susan looked as though she'd been busy getting ready for a dance. She looked pleasant enough, but Peter's face had such a strong look of dismay, Lucy knew things were headed downhill. "What are you wearing?" Peter managed to splutter.

"A dance for the ball I'm going to tonight," Susan replied gently. "You were invited as well, remember?"

"I replied that I was busy with a prior engagement. We were all going for a lovely dinner at the Professors!"

"Oh yes, well, I decided I wanted to go to the ball instead. I passed on the word to the Professor, he isn't expecting me," Susan answered glibly as she resettled herself at her vanity. "I feared it would be quite dull."

"Dull?" Peter asked. "How could it be dull? Professor Kirke promised to tell us of his own adventures tonight. We were going to go and have a good jaw about Narnia. I helped the Professor set it all up. I even picked up Eustace and Jill," Peter said, gesturing to the door, where the aforementioned persons stood quietly with Edmund.

"Oh, hello there, Eustace, and it's a pleasure to meet you Jillian," Susan said. Jill just barely managed not to grimace at the use of her full name. She turned back to Peter. "Peter, I don't want to go and talk about silly fantasy worlds, when the real world is expecting me."

"What do you mean, real world? Narnia wasn't a fantasy!" Peter cried, and Edmund and Lucy exchanged hopeless glances. "Narnia was a world with living and breathing creatures in it, a land where we ruled for ages, how could you forget?"

"I haven't forgotten anything. I remember perfectly well the silly little stories we made up to pass the time while we were away that summer," Susan replied, spots of anger forming in her cheeks.

"How could you remember them perfectly well if you insist they were never real?" Peter rejoined.

"Kings and Queens of a world we entered through the back of a Wardrobe?" Susan spat, "you insist that these are not fairy tales? Wake up and grow up, Peter, there's no such place as Narnia, nor has there ever been. What a vivid imagination you all still have!"

"We all know it exists," Eustace burst out. Susan turned to him and frowned.

"Now you're ruining poor innocent children's minds with foolish hopes and dreams of a world that doesn't exist? How could you Peter? You're supposed to be the responsible one."

"I'm sixteen," Eustace growled, Jill nodded fervently beside him.

"You're the one who's being foolish," Peter yelled, "stuck in a world of nylons and lipstick."

Susan stood up quickly and threw the hairbrush she'd been using straight at Peter's head. He ducked. "At least nylons and lipstick are real, and not figments of my imagination," she hissed. "Get out of my room, all of you, and go ahead to your silly little party I don't want to speak with you any longer."

"Fine," Peter said harshly, "I hope you enjoy your night, meaningless though it will turn out to be." He stormed from the room. "Come on, you lot, we'll be late."

"She's been hinting for awhile now," Edmund said wearily, walking over to his brothers side, and clapping an affectionate arm about his shoulders. "We meant to warn you, but we wanted to do it in person."

"It's perfectly awful!" Jill groaned. "How could she turn away from a place like Narnia?"

"Well, you've gone back there quite recently," Edmund said reasonably. "It's been a while longer for her.

"I suppose," Jill replied, "but still…"

They all remained silent as they filed out the front door.

Meanwhile, at the home of the Professor, a lady around his age bustled about, while Professor Kirke sat and watch amusedly, smoking his pipe. "Do you think the children will like something else for dessert, for some variety? I ought to have made something special, like, oh I don't know, like Turkish Delight!" she said, her entire demeanor completely flustered.

The Professor laughed. "Polly, my dear friend, they are coming for a story and a dinner with friends, not for the desserts. And be thankful you didn't take the time to make Turkish Delight. Edmund can't stand being in the same house as that dish. Something to do with his time in Narnia."

Polly stopped dead in her tracks. "Narnia! That's it, I'll put out some toffees." She hurried off into the kitchen, leaving the bemused Professor behind her. "I would like a better explanation of that later, Digory Kirke," she called from the kitchen, making him laugh.

"Of course, my friend, but not right now. I see the children."

Sure enough, the doorbell rang, and the Professor got to his feet to answer the door, Polly following nervously behind him.

"Professor Kirke!" the Pevensies cried, rushing forward to hug the old man or shake his hand, as was their wont. The younger two hung back, surprised by this show of affection, but Polly quickly walked forward.

"Polly Plummer," she introduced herself, "and it's so nice to meet you, Eustace Scrubb and Jill Pole."

They grinned back at her, holding out their hands to shake hers. Formal "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Plummer," greetings were waved off with a simple, "please, just call me Aunt Polly." Then the Professor turned to introduce Polly to all of the children, and Peter formally introduced everyone to the Professor and Polly and provided a terse explanation of Susan's absence.

"Please, do come in," Polly said as she ushered them into the front hall.

"You know, it's my house, but she does seem to be queen of it tonight," the Professor confided to Peter and Edmund. They grinned back knowledgeably. They had, after all, lived with queens for nearly half their life. He raised his voice to include everyone. "Polly, why don't we escort the children into the parlor, have a few of those lovely toffees, and begin the evening, shall we?"

Polly smiled demurely, "Why Digory, that was always the plan," she said as she led the group to the parlor. "I'll just get some tea set out," she said.

"Oh please, let me," Peter grinned. "I've heard a bit of the beginning of the story, and I've been quite mysterious about the rest, the others have pestered me about it all the way here. I believe it would be best if you two began without me, and I'll fetch the tea and rejoin you in a minute."

"Well, then," the Professor said, "that works for me?" he looked questioningly at Polly, as though expecting her to insist on doing everything herself.

"And me as well," Polly replied, shooting Digory a look that said she knew exactly what he was up to. "Did you want to begin the tale then, or should I?"

"Ladies first, my dear friend," Digory said. "I think the beginning of the tale rightfully belongs to you."

"Well, if you insist," Polly laughed, before turning to the children, who were settled on chairs and on the floor. "Our story begins here in London, actually, many years ago."

"How many?" Eustace asked, but Jill shoved him a little, hissing, "you never ask a lady her age," to the general amusement of the entire group.

"Go on," Jill encouraged Polly, still glaring at Eustace.

Polly gave a hearty laugh. "As I was saying, our story begins here in London, in a house very much like this one, back when Digory and I were just children, and had never met before-"

**And thus begins the tale of the Magician's Nephew! Stay tuned for how the story ends... and beyond that, how the next begins.**


	2. The Magician's Nephew pt 2

**The Magician's Nephew- part 2**

"Oh Aunt Polly, that was lovely!" Lucy said, her eyes bright with tears. "Professor, was your mother alright?"

The Professor smiled. "I planted the core in the back garden the night I gave her the Apple. The very next morning, the Doctor himself declared it a miracle. That's when Polly brought back the rings-"

"-we'd stolen them from Mr. Ketterley-" Polly confided with a blush, causing some good natured laughs from the children.

"-and we buried them in a circle around the seedling that was already starting to come up from the ground. Within a week, Mother was certainly getting better. A month later, everything was back to normal and Mother was playing with us."

"Miss Ketterley used to say she was the biggest baby of the three of us," Polly laughed, laying her hand on the Professor's. He clapped his other one over hers, as they both thought back to those lovely days together.

"What happened next?" Jill asked, enthralled.

"My father came home from India," Digory remembered. "And his Uncle had died, so we inherited a lovely old house in the country, with suits of armour, stables, kennels, a river, a park, vineries, woods and mountains all around it."

"Your home in the country!" Lucy laughed with delight, looking at her brothers fondly, remembering all the memories they'd had there, before and after the great adventure they'd had in Narnia.

"That's it exactly," the Professor laughed, "even then you were a smart girl, young Lucy."

"And what happened to the tree?" Peter prompted slyly, looking at his sister.

"Well, it was the funniest thing, but that tree grew big and strong quite fast. The apples it bore were never quite the same as that first one- they could never have saved Mother, or anyone else for that matter- but they were the loveliest apples you'd ever seen. _And the tree itself, inside itself, in the very sap of it, the tree (so to speak) never forgot that other tree in Narnia to which it belonged. Sometimes it would move mysteriously when there was no wind blowing: I think that when this happened there were high winds in Narnia and the English tree quivered because, at that moment, the Narnia tree was wrocking and swaying in a strong southwestern gale._"

"Oh that sounds so, I don't know, magical," Jill cried, looking out through the window at the trees outside, as if wishing they too would suddenly start dancing in a Narnian breeze.

"It was a magical tree. It's a shame it fell down in that storm," Polly prompted.

"Oh yes, a shame," Digory said with a solemn nod, though his eyes were laughing with his friend's.

"I suppose you cut it up for firewood?" Peter mourned. Edmund looked suspiciously between the three oldest members, while the three youngest seemed distraught by the idea. Lucy in particular seemed ready to cry.

"Yes, I'm afraid I did-" he managed before Edmund cut him off.

"Oh you've been toying with us, the lot of you! Lucy, it's the wardrobe! He had it made into the wardrobe! Remember the funny carvings on it- its from the story- the tree became the Wardrobe, which first took us to Narnia."

"Oh, that's brilliant! And you're brilliant Ed, for figuring that out so quickly" Lucy cried, laughing with the others.

"It took Peter the better half of a week, and that was while he was staying in the guest room with the wardrobe in it!" the Professor told them all, and Peter flushed.

"It's good you were able to save that, even though the house was destroyed by the war. Did you ever see it, Aunt Polly?" Edmund asked her, reclining back in his chair to stare at the ceiling, thinking back on better days.

"I practically lived there some holidays," Polly laughed. "We'd play hide and seek in all the many rooms. I learned to ride there, and climb, and all sorts of things. They'd turned me into a right country girl by the time they'd load me back up on the train to return home. I'd even learned to milk."

"She learned all her baking skills from my mother there. Mother loved Polly like the daughter she never had," he added in an undertone.

"The baking!" Polly sang, rising to her feet. "Why I'd almost forgot that this was a dinner. It felt more like a wonderful tea. I'll have dinner on the table in a moment."

"We'll help," Jill and Lucy said quickly, as they bounced up from their seats, grinning at each other, and they all hurried off into the kitchen to fetch the dishes.

The boys rose to their feet more slowly. "I'd always wondered how the White Witch got into Narnia," Edmund remarked, absently rubbing his stomach, where the Witch had left her mark many years ago.

Peter nodded, but he didn't look surprised. "I was shocked when I found out. I mean, I knew she didn't come from Narnia, the old stories told us that, but I didn't know everything."

"He wouldn't speak to me for an entire evening," the Professor recounted sadly. Peter looked embarrassed.

"All I could think about was her hurting you," he murmured to Edmund, who looked thoughtful.

"But it didn't matter. Evil found it's way in anyhow, even after her defeat. Look at Caspian's uncle," he argued.

"And the Green Lady," Eustace added.

Peter shrugged and looked apologetically at the Professor, who laid a hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have forgiven myself, if anything had happened to any of you because of my actions. Anyways, you've already apologized for that lonely evening several times. Now, let's take a look at what my dear friend has cooked up for us. It smells delicious. I hear she even went to the trouble of making Turkish Delight."

Edmund's pale face and low groan made everyone but Polly and Jill, who exchanged confused looks, laugh as they sat down.

"Just a joke, my boy, just a joke," the Professor laughed. He poured wine all around, even for the younger ones, and raised his glass in a toast.

"To Narnia," he began, "and the Opening Song. May the masterpiece never end," he said in a proud and majestic voice, before looking to Peter.

"And to Aslan, King of Kings," he continued, and all raised their glasses to their lips.

Lucy's eyes went wide, and her wineglass slipped from her hand as she let out a little shriek and jumped to her feet. Jill and Eustace, seated across from Lucy, had caught her stare and turned to see what she'd been looking at, so they weren't much far behind Lucy as they jumped to their feet, letting out soft cries. Jill's hand grabbed Eustace's tightly, and he squeezed back reassuringly. Polly and Digory saw what they all saw, and both started. It was Edmund and Peter who sat perfectly still, and Edmund who nodded to Peter, to confirm what Peter was seeing with his own eyes. Therefore it was Peter who, pale, his hand instinctively going for a sword he no longer carried, rose to his feet, and began- "Speak, if you are not a phantom or a dream. You have a Narnian look about you, and we are the seven friends of Narnia."

**Slightly edited from first version (I got caught up and forgot I'd forgotten to finish the story of the tree!) Italicized portion was straight from the last page of C.S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew. Up next- Last Battle part 1.**


	3. The Last Battle pt 1

**Disclaimer: not mine.**

**The Last Battle- part 1**

Two figures in black moved stealthily through the darkened streets and towards a specific house, where they began to move up the alley into the backyard.

The taller one knocked into a bunch of rubbish bins and both of them froze as the noise clattered. The smaller one hissed "run!" and they dashed to the end of the alley and vaulted over the low back wall into one of the small backyards of a house in a row, just as light spread out from a door and someone yelled " 'hoos der?".

"That's why _I _was the spymaster," the smaller one hissed. He took another step forward and promptly fell down.

"Oh yes, master of stealth, you were, clearly," the elder said, helping his brother up. "Four houses down, that way," he said, pointing. "Or wait," he looked at the piece of paper in his hand, "was it that way?"

The younger sighed, "I was navigator too, Peter, so perhaps the map would be better off in my hands?" He took a look at the hand drawn map. "That way," he indicated.

"I wasn't lost," the first grumbled.

"No, you just didn't know where you were going," the second replied, ignoring the dark look his brother gave him.

They scrambled over fences, bent over double most of the way, until they got to the yard they were looking for. They looked at each other over the hand drawn map, and the younger pulled out a wooden box and two trowels from his bag. The boys looked at each other. "On three," the elder said, "one,"

"Two," his brother whispered back.

"Three," they said together, as they plunged their trowels into the dirt.

__________

"I could use a lift, Susan," Lucy said from the door to her sister's room.

"Ask Mother, I'm busy." Susan replied without looking around at her sister.

"Mother's not here, if you were more aware of your family, you'd remember that. And you're not busy, you're angry," Lucy shot back. "It's not us, Susan. We're not the ones at fault. You're the one in denial, you're the one who upset Peter, and has brought Edmund's nightmares back in full. He's not as strong as I am, not as strong as you, and my belief and your denial have been tearing him apart. You make him doubt, and he turns to memories of _her,_ just to remember that he lived that life. He was King, as you were Queen, and you let foolishness take over even those sensibilities you had before you began your reign in the land we ruled. You'll put this off as more of my foolishness in your empty head, but I assure you, Susan Pevensie, the not-so-Gentle-anymore queen of my heart, but I know what you're doing, and how cruel it is to us. Go join your falsely magical world of adulthood, sister, for as long as you can. The boys and I prefer the real and magical world of our childhood."

"And that's your problem, you're living in the past!"

"You're not listening. It _is_ possible to grow older without growing out of everything that makes you who you really are, Susan. You didn't have to abandon us, and the world we had the honor of living in for as long as we did. You chose to."

"I chose life, Lucy, over fantasies, and you'd do well to do the same. Live a little."

"I will, Susan, I'll live life to its greatest potential, in every way. Will you?" she challenged before turning her back on her sister and leaving the room. "I'll walk, don't expect us back until late."

__________

Lucy was waiting eagerly by the entrance to the underground. "Have you got them?" she called to her dirty and tired brothers, who were receiving odd looks from the people around them. She got two nods in reply. "Good, that was an excellent plan then, Peter," she chirped happily.

Peter looked haughtily down at Edmund. "That's why _I _was supreme tactician." He said as he walked down the stairs.

Edmund made a face at his back. "He messed up on directions again, didn't he?" Lucy whispered.

"And ran into a few rubbish bins as well," her brother confided cheerily, clapping his sister on the back as they made their way down into the underground.

__________

The train shook oddly as Digory escorted Polly into the train compartment, catching her slightly as she stumbled.

"These old bones," Polly muttered. Digory smiled.

"You look less than half your age, my dear."

"My word, you've gone daft and forgotten how old we are again, haven't you, my friend. I don't know of anyone who's reached their twelfth decade yet, but I assure you, I plan on being comfortable long before we hit that time."

Digory laughed heartily as they sat down. "I suppose I feel more like a child again, surrounded by all the young ones."

"It's only made me feel more like a feeble old woman."

"Never old, and never feeble, friend. And here come the children."

Jill and Eustace arrived, laughing. "We'll be there in about five minutes, Aunt Polly, Professor," Eustace said happily as he collapsed into the seat opposite them.

"And your journey will truly begin," Polly smiled, then looked out at the countryside, looking confused. She turned to Digory.

While the elder two spoke quietly in a worried undertone, the younger two turned to each other, heads bent together conspiratorially.

"Are you excited?" Jill asked.

"A little nervous, but yes, excited," Eustace said. "I'm ready to go back."

"It feels a bit like that's where we truly belong, don't you think?"

"That's exactly how it feels, how it's felt from the beginning," he said, smiling at his best friend.

"Thank you for showing me your world, Eustace," Jill whispered, grabbing his hand and pressing her lips to his cheek quickly in a friendly kiss. His face belied his amusement as they both turned towards Polly and Digory, still deep in conversation. Suddenly a loud screech stopped them, and a tremor rocked through the compartment. All looked shocked. In the underground station, Peter, Edmund and Lucy, closest to the rail, turned toward the tunnel where the train would be coming from, and the world went dark as Peter lunged in front of Lucy. The sounds of groaning metals were accompanied by a young woman's anguished, wordless scream.

Suddenly, from the darkness loomed the head of an old and wrinkled ape…

****

Darker than I originally envisioned. Alternate ending would be sudden darkness and groaning metal and the scream, right after Jill and Eustace look up at Polly and Digory. Up to the reader whether the anguished scream is Lucy's (of fright or pain) or Susan's (of grief). Personally, I imagine it beginning with Lucy, frightened, blending with Susan's for two seconds before Lucy's cuts off abruptly while Susan's carries on, fading to nothing, which is when Shift rears his ugly head ;-P

There is more to come, but I'd like to insert a few ideas here quickly- I'm not certain about a Eustace/Jill relationship (very much a fan of Polly/Digory, but as that clearly never happened… I still allude to close friendship in here) but I'd like to insert that I think Jill would at least hug/cheek kiss her best friend in the entire world during times of great stress (I envision Hermione here). I'd like to think that something semi-platonic could happen between the friends before they go into battle (A fond embrace, a kiss on the cheek as tears stream down Jill's face). If I wrote the screen plays, that would be there- I don't think it's too out of character for semi-nobles like Jill and Eustace. I would love to write that into this, but I'm too lazy to write out my idea of the screenplay, and it's been too long since I've read the stories to pull it off well.

Peter'd finish his speech from the last chapter in the middle of the movie, when Trilian shows up, where the scene belongs.

I have no clue what all I'm going to do for the second half of Last Battle just quite yet… though HHB is pretty well fleshed out in my mind already, and some of it is already written out somewhere on a piece of paper buried under a pile of schoolwork on my desk…

All that said… ROLLETTI you are my hero!!! You just about made my day, and today was my birthday (no lie… I'm 20 now J ) so that is quite a feat! Waking up to your amazing reviews was the highlight of my day. I probably wouldn't have started writing this tonight if you hadn't been so kind and said so many nice things to me. Thank you thank you thank you!!!!!

I hope you enjoy this, and I promise to write more soon!


	4. The Last Battle pt 2

**Disclaimer: not mine.**

**The Last Battle- part 2**

Six coffins stood at the front of a church. People on all sides watched as Susan walked among them, lost in her own world. As she walked in front of them, she remembered.

"Susan," called Peter's voice, as she passed his closed casket. Memories of him ran through her mind as she walked all around it, wishing she could open it, memories and hazy dreams that could have once been real, however impossible it might seem. She felt the extreme sense inside her, deep within, of love and devotion to a boy for protecting her. Scenes flashed in her head, of him as a boy, and as the man he could have been- the man he'd been?

"You are a kid," Edmund had scoffed.

"Well I wasn't always," Peter had replied, and they'd all exchanged looks. Susan felt like she was a ghost walking through that memory- as if, if she tried, she could walk into that scene, where they were all alive and happy together. And then walk right into the adventure she felt certain had followed that

Ed was different. Knowing he was dead was hardest because she had the feeling that he'd already died, years ago. That he'd gotten a reprieve, a brief shot at a better life before this tragic accident.

And the vague memory of that life- _what life?_

"Oh Susan," Edmund murmured in her ear, and she turned, half-expecting him to be there. She'd felt the slight breeze of his whisper against her cheek, felt the warmth from his body against her shoulder. Susan and Edmund were the most similar of their siblings, the dark to Peter and Lucy's light. But Edmund and Peter were closer than anything else in the world. Lucy was everyone's little sister, but Peter and Edmund had gone through much more than the girls had.

But what?

Susan's body clenched, her hands forming fists, her shoulders hunching in on herself as the voice of the man at the front of the room continued to drone on, a pleasant hum in the back of her thoughts. It would be too much to ask her to hold his words in her mind as well as the thoughts and memories of the people she loved so dearly.

She felt like a traitor, like she had turned on them. If she'd been there, she'd have shared their fate, but she'd be happier than she was now. "Even a traitor may mend," Edmund's voice, deeper than she'd known it ever to be, and thoughtful as well. Touched lightly by sorrow, even.

Her mother and father, her brothers, all gone. Memories came fast and thick, the ones she knew to be real, and the ones that felt real, felt more substantial than any other. The boys fighting, in a subway, in a snowy wood, on horseback with flashing steel.

The pastor said something she didn't hear, and she was late to stand.

Edmund lay dying.

A scream rose in her throat, and she hurriedly choked back both the sound and the thoughts. They were coming back to the train crash, her imagination picking up the pieces she'd heard, pieces with her brothers and sister and parents in so much pain. Jill, so young and full of life, on the verge of being the age where she could join Susan and Lucy at the parties Susan so enjoyed, and Lucy tolerated for her sake. Eustace, the boy who had changed so much since that summer when Edmund and Lucy had gone to visit him.

"Why?" Lucy asked, and once more Susan felt like there was a spirit hanging just out of sight, her little sister's sad face gazing mournfully at her. Remembering Lu was remembering the innocence of youth, without growth. She'd matured without aging- a child in the body of a young woman.

Lu as a frightened child, being sent away, Lu at the Professor's.

Lu running from those wolves in her nightmares, her outrageous stories and imaginative daydreams.

Lucy, running from wolves (when had there been wolves?), Lucy throwing her dagger (when had she had a dagger?), Lucy on horseback (she'd never rode before), Lucy running from more danger, as Susan stood in a clearing, ready to die for her sister. The memories of Lucy, Lucy, Lucy- so many different memories, Lucy at so many ages, so many different emotions not hidden on her open face.

Including anger. The anger that had been foremost on her face the night before the day she'd died, when she'd returned home from the Professor's party, distracted, without her brothers. "Why won't you take your head out of the clouds, and remember? Remember what you once were, Susan Pevensie, _who_ you once were, and come back."

"I don't remember, Lucy," Susan whispered, so softly that her aunt, sitting next to her, didn't hear her. "I don't."

She looked up at the front, not surprised to catch the briefest glimpse of all of them, standing at the alter, evenly space, all nine of those she'd lost in the accident, dressed in their Sunday finest. Her parents, standing together on the far left, next to Eustace, who stood next to Edmund. Peter stood in the middle, his head held high, proud, with his little sister standing beside him, her eyes locked with Susan's. Jill stood to the right of Lucy, and the Professor and his friend, the woman Susan had never met, but had heard stories of, long long ago in that part of her memory that she couldn't reach any more. Polly, who looked at Susan with such disappointment, but some understanding as well. Susan couldn't stand to look at them, so she averted her eyes, but she knew she must, so she looked up again, and the others no longer stood there. Nor did the alter remain. She was looking into a grand hall, standing in front of a dais with four thrones. Three monarchs looked down at her, expectantly, their expressions those of loving parents, waiting for their child to catch up, to join them. A light shone from a Beast that moved up between the eldest's throne and the empty one, looking at Susan, who shook as his eyes touched hers.

She closed them quickly, and the thrones and the kings and queens flashed briefly against her eyelids, transformed to her and her siblings in those same clothes, on those same thrones, wearing those same crowns. As the image faded, Susan murmured once more, "I don't remember. But I'm trying."

**If this were the movie version (as I could only wish...) The only difference I'd have for the ending of the actual Last Battle as Lewis wrote it is not bringing back the characters from Horse and His Boy. They'll be introduced in my own end to Susan's story :)**

**I envision this part as actually having the other three saying things to Susan, but just Susan's buried memory recreating them, not that they are actually communicating from the world beyond.**

**Sorry I've been away... lots of craziness in school these days, and people coming down to visit for their spring breaks. I'll try to get the next few up soon.**


	5. The Horse and His Boy pt 1

**Disclaimer: not mine.**

**Horse and His Boy pt 1**

Susan felt like the world was always moving twice as fast around her than she was able to process. People jumped from place to place and spoke in gibberish language that she could only imagine was fully formed sentences, but she could only catch every few words of any given phrase, making conversations disjointed. People eschewed her company, not wishing to deal with the grief stricken young woman. She wore a black dress everywhere, she didn't take note of the rain, and her eyes-

People said she was haunted. Other's claimed she sleepwalked through her life, half dead. They were all right, and wrong.

She was walking down a lane near her old school, cars and buggies and other people passing her by at twice their normal speed, when it happened. An arrow flew past her face and embedded itself in the tree behind her. She ducked instinctively, dropping her things, as she heard the sound of raucous laughter coming from the archery field on the other side of the lane. She whipped her head around to face the gaggle of young men, around her age, who were laughing snidely and mocking her.

Something inside her snapped, and she flew across the lane and hopped a fence with a good deal more grace and athleticism than they were expecting, judging from the expressions on a few faces. She marched up to Dylan Cross, the ring leader and the only one holding a bow, with indignant fury written across her face.

"You could have killed me!" she exploded, shoving him roughly in the chest, all sense of decorum gone.

"I wouldn't have," he laughed cruelly, holding his ground. "I'm the best shot there is in this town. You were in no danger from my shot."

"Your aim isn't that certain, and you're not the best archer in this town, not by a long shot," she spat, her hands clenched at her sides.

"Oh, I'm not? Then who is?" he challenged, approaching her so that they stood, faces centimeters apart, bodies almost touching.

"I am."

She looked about as surprised as he was to hear those words pass her lips. His mates jeered as he let out a great bellow of mad laughter.

"You?" he managed. "You couldn't pull a bow, let alone shoot better than me."

Her surprise forgotten, she grabbed the weapon out of his loose hand, fitted the arrow he'd shot at her to it with ease, and pulled back.

Afterwards the boys would say that she transformed. Indeed, there was something of a warrior princess in her stance, in her face. There almost seemed to be the shadow of a crown resting on her brow. She let the arrow fly, and had another on the string and in the air before the first could land dead center on the first target. In minutes all seven targets had arrows through their centers, some at an angle, because of where she stood, but even at an angle everyone could see that the point of the arrow went through the exact center. She gave them half a moment to think about what they'd seen, before aiming for a wooden ring, now dancing in a strong breeze. Dylan's eyes watched hungrily, his interest no longer in seeing her fail, but in seeing a master at work. The images of her, the queen, were dancing past her eyes, even as she aimed. She gasped as she let the second to last arrow go.

__

She was training the people of Caspian's camp, when he came and joined them. She challenged him to hit the highest pinecone in the tallest tree. "Are you sure that isn't an acorn?" he gulped. She grinned, and set her arrow on it. It flew true, and arrow and pinecone landed in the ground, the fruit skewered by Queen Susan's arrow.

The arrow flew, puncturing the paper and flying through. But everyone saw the perfection of the puncture, and there was awe on every face as they turned back to look at her, expecting her to be gloating.

The look on Susan's face, though, was not one of triumph.

"Lucy," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes, which were wide with wonder and discovery. With remembrance. "Peter, Edmund. Mum. Dad." Their faces flashed in her memory, shadows of their former selves appeared beside her as she called them into being. She raised her voice to a yell. "Why'd you leave me?" She raged as she pulled an apple out of a wide-eyed observers hand, threw it as far as she could (which was rather farther than she'd ever been able to before) and let loose the ninth arrow.

"Aslan," she murmured, as the apple landed in two distinct thumps on the solid earth, split by her ninth arrow. "Why'd you leave me?" And with them looking on in awe, she turned and ran down the lane, blinded by her own tears.

She knew that it wasn't a church she was seeking, but because that was the last place she saw them- in a house of God, all five of them, in five wooden caskets, that was where she headed. But not to that church- the one she had last seen them in, nor to the one Mary-Anna had brought her once. No, she passed six churches on her long run before she found the one she wanted, although she hadn't know she wanted it.

It was nestled between a bank and a museum, and it wasn't obvious in and of itself, but rather because the entrances to both the bank and the museum were flanked by lion statues. Susan knew, with the absolute surety of one who has been touched by an immortal deity, that this was where she was meant to be, this was where she'd find the answers she was seeking.

Susan stopped dead in the vestibule of the church, nearly colliding with the back of an old woman with a cane. She recognized the church as a Catholic one, and though she wasn't Catholic, she watched the older woman carefully and mimicked her actions, until she was kneeling in a pew before the alter, looking up at the man hanging from the cross. She remembered with a sudden vividness the feel of Narnian air with the scent of fire, cruel and vicious fires from torches, the foul smell of the beasts that had stood behind and beside the White Witch, Jadis, as she raised the bloody knife above the shorn and tied Lion. And clarity burst upon her, followed closely by the feel of the Lion's breath upon her.

"You've been here all along!" she murmured. And she spun to face him.

He smiled at her. "We meet again, young queen."

"Older and wiser now than I was when last we met," Susan quipped, her delight at seeing Aslan once more diminished quickly by the memory of what had actually passed since they'd last met. "And younger and less wise than I have been in times past."

Aslan smiled gently. "You will learn wisdom again, and you have time to grow up here."

"You said that to Peter, when you told us we wouldn't be coming back. I remember- you told him that. But he didn't grow up, he died. So you lied."

A part of her was hoping he'd do something drastic, like pick her up and shake her. Not because she doubted, like Trumpkin had once a long time ago, but because it would make him completely real. Well, maybe because she still had doubts.

Aslan seemed to understand that, because he walked up to her and put his head on her shoulder, so that she could wrap her arms around his neck, like she used to do. "Peter did his growing up in the time between when we last talked and the accident. Be at peace with his fate, child. You know that that is his story, when you should be more concerned with yours." At the word _yours_, Susan felt a chill go up and down her spine. Aslan's voice had turned stern.

"I was afraid and angry that I couldn't go back. It was easier, to pretend it had never happened. And then, once I was pretending that, it began to feel as though it didn't exist. As though I'd never been there, as though I'd never been Queen of- of N-Narnia." The feeling that had overcome her when she was on the archery field came over her again when she said the name of her true country, "Oh Aslan, how could I have forgotten!" she groaned, feeling the strength leave her. "I submit myself to your judgement," she murmured, dropping to her knees in front of the Lion. "I feel ashamed, knowing how easily I turned from you, and the memory of Narnia!"

Aslan shook his great head at her. "It will never be easy for you to remember Narnia. It was only ever easy for the others because they had each other to help them remember. Your adventures there were harder for you because you did belong in Narnia, but you also belonged in England, in your world. If you want it to be easier, remember me, remember Narnia- and pass it on."

"People will think I'm crazy!" Susan gasped in dismay. The Lion smiled down on her.

"Then tell stories to your children. And tell that young man over there why he isn't crazy." Susan turned to look to the door, where Dylan had been standing for the last five minutes, completely frozen with his mouth wide open in shock. "You've found me here now. You know now. I know what you want in your heart, but you can't go back to Narnia now. It no longer exists. Nor can you join your siblings. You have a life. Don't turn your back on Narnia again, or you will never come back to me. But once a Queen of Narnia, always a Queen, even though you let yourself stray this past time. You are not beyond redemption. So rise, Queen Susan, and go on to live!" Aslan's face smiled upon Susan as he faded away.

"What the Hell was that?" Dylan swore, striding into the church. The woman who had been there before was gone, so Dylan wasn't following anyone's actions as he went through the appropriate motions, and belatedly crossed himself for swearing. When he got to Susan's side, he was pale but anxious. "Pevensie, there was a Lion talking to you."

"Not a lion, The Lion," Susan responed. "And it's Susan, Dylan. Susan Pevensie. You may as well know that, because you won't believe the story I'm about to tell you. You'll want to know the proper name of the girl you're about to send to the mad house."

He snorted, still in shock. "There was a lion in this church. Since I saw it, I'm about as mad as you are. So are you going to tell me this story or not?"

Susan's eyes, as well as her thoughts, were on the wooden cross, and the man whose effigy looked down upon her, with the eyes of the Lion who loved her.

"I was there when the Son was sacrificed," she murmured. "Bound to a table, with his mane cut, and then she took her knife and- she killed him. But Lucy and I couldn't look. And then we stayed with him, and when we were about to leave, he came back. He rose again." She turned to Dylan. "And after he came back, he took us to our brothers and we helped them win the fight against the Witch and bring Edmund back to life, and we became Kings and Queens! Oh, the stories go on and on, and you wouldn't believe half of them if I told you. You probably think I'm crazy as it is- the sacrifice of the Son and all."

Dylan just looked on at her. He could smell strange smells in the air, smells of summers and summer air that wasn't English air. And the musky scent of the Lion still hung around Susan, with a smell of flowers much like a scent that would have accompanied Susan's richest gowns, which had been washed and treated with perfumed water, back when she was a Queen. Susan herself was changed, as she looked back at him. Her eyes glowed with happiness, despite her words. Her stories, and the Lion, had brought her back to life in a way that made her more beautiful than any amount of make-up could.

"I think I should like to hear the rest of these stories," Dylan replied, slowly, thoughtfully, "from the beginning."

Susan smiled, and began, as he'd asked- "It all started with the war, when we were sent from London to the Professor's house- that's where Lucy found the Wardrobe…"

___

The town talked. Susan Pevensie and Dylan Cross were rarely out of each other's company these days.

"I believe they're discussing the classics," a woman announced to her friend over the fresh harvest in the market, the gay colors of autumn surrounding them. "I heard the girl talking about centaurs and minotaurs. They were playing with sticks in the park, pretending they were swords like a pair of little boys!"

The other woman shook her head, tsking at the thought as she carefully inspected an apple. "They're a pair of grown children, those two. She especially oughtn't play like a young ruffian."

"I do like to see her smile though," replied the first, sighing. "Such beauty, marred by tragedy. It is lovely to see it renewed. And that boy was headed straight for trouble, until she stepped into his life. Now his gay laughter seems to follow you across town, don't you know?"

The other nodded. "I do. Maybe something good will come out of this foolishness."

Susan and Dylan went for a walk daily, through all sorts of weather. He supported the umbrella in the rain, helped her over puddles, even as she laughed. Everyone was surprised when the refined young lady once went jumping into the nearest puddle, completely soaking herself and the young man, but both just laughed, oblivious to the scorn of the world around them. As winter took hold on the town, still the young couple walked about, Susan's hands gesturing wildly, constantly pulled free of their warm muff, until Dylan would laugh and rub her white hands between his, to warm the blood flow into her frozen fingers, and then he'd replace her muff, warning her against removing the item. But the stories that no one could quite hear were too much for her hands to stay covered, and she took to wearing gloves at his insistence. The rest of the adult world, holed up in their warm homes, shook their heads at the folly of the two youths, walking through the snow, getting their faces chapped from the wind.

Spring found them in the park once more, sitting beneath trees, both of their hands occupied by braiding wild flowers, to the amusement of Dylan's friends. Often they were joined by crowds of younger children, eagerly listening to Susan's tales, their attention as rapt as Dylan's was, every face turned towards her as her stories took them worlds away.

Summer found Susan sitting, surrounded by children of all ages, most holding kittens and puppies, all giggling, amusing them with long monologues in animal voices. Suddenly, Dylan came running up, slightly out of breath.

"Miss Susan is telling us what aminals sound like!" a young girl told him loudly, holding out her kitten for him to take. He took it gently, rescuing it from the painful hold the young girl had on it.

"Is that right?" he laughed, glancing at Susan, who smiled mysteriously.

"She says giraffes have a very high pitched voice!" another girl chimed in, also giggling.

"You should tell us all another story of Narnia," Dylan remarked, elbowing the oldest girl in the group, who looked to be his little sister, and around 16.

"You should tell us about the men who came for your hand when you were a queen!" she giggled. Dylan glared sharply at her and several of the others giggled as well. Susan, however, remained oblivious.

"All right then," she laughed. "Well, one tat sticks in my mind is the story of this one duke, from some island or another. He was bent on becoming another King! As if Narnia didn't have enough already! He was quite intent, even after I'd expressly told him I'd no interest, and both Peter and Edmund got up right then and there, stormed over to him and as one, _punched _him. He flew off his feet into a column. Left a mark in the marble from where his sword struck. Oh, it was a sight! I was dismayed with my brothers, but secretly grateful."

"Is that how you win fair maiden's heart, noble gestures?" Dylan's sister asked slyly, ignoring her brother's angry grimace.

"Don't be silly, they're her brothers!" Dylan scoffed, returning his attention to Susan, who was watching their interaction with a laughing smile.

"They were still young enough to forget things like diplomacy in those days. They learned."

"Anyone else?"

"Well, I'd almost forgotten. Corin did, once, but I believe that was on a dare from Edmund, because the child was twelve years my junior! Come to think of it, Cor did something similar not long after the battle. I wonder if Corin wasn't trying to make up for his own humiliation!"

"You said new names! Now you owe us a story!" the youngest cried, her eyes shining.

"So I did," Susan laughed, depositing the squirming puppy she'd been holding into the little one's lap. "All right, I suppose I'll tell you the story of the Horse and his Boy," she paused, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, that included a marriage proposal to me as well, and several daring escapes from a foreign city. I'm afraid I came off rather silly in that one! Maybe I should tell you a different story."

"Oh please, no!" The children cried. "The Horse and his Boy, you must!"

"Oh fine, then, we'll go ahead with it. I guess we'll have to begin our story with the scene of a battle, and the grief of a fellow king, in the very first days of the reign of High King Peter and his brother and sisters at Cair Paravel…"

****

Indistinct battle scenes, King Lune's grieving face, but no information… continues on into the story.


	6. The Horse and His Boy pt 2

**Disclaimer: not mine.**

**Horse and His Boy pt 2**

**Scene ends with twins going up to bed, and a conversation about who becomes king, ending in a threat on the part of Corin to knock Cor down.**

"What happened after that?" The youngest child asked, laughing at the twins banter.

"They probably fought until the end of their days, like Dylan and I do." Dylan's sister remarked as she stuck her tongue out at her brother, who stuck his back out at her.

"Did they fight for the kingdom?"

"No, they fought, of course, like brothers and sisters always do, and Cor got knocked down quite a lot. He was brilliant with a sword, but Corin was the reigning boxer of all the North Countries. He became known as Corin Thunder-Fist, and boxed the Lapsed Bear of Stormness for thirty three rounds without a time keeper. The bear couldn't see out of its eyes at the end and became a reformed character."

"Did Bree and Hwin get married?" the littlest asked.

"Yes, but not to each other, from what the stories tell me," Susan said sadly, thinking of the stories she'd surely missed. "But they did come visit their friends in Archenland fairly often."

"Do Aravis and Cor get along at the end?"

"Not at all," Susan said, keeping up her sad face, and all the girls sighed a little.

"So they keep fighting?" the littlest asked. "Did she have to go back to Calormen?"

"They kept fighting, yes. They fought and made up so often that finally they got so used to it that they decided to get married, so as to go on doing it more conveniently. Cor and Aravis made a good King and Queen of Archenland after King Lune's death, and the most famous of all the kings of Archenland was their son, Ram the Great."

"So it's a happily ever after?" one of the boys scowled in disgust.

"Except that neither Cor nor Corin got to marry the fair Queen Susan," Dylan reminded him, "as Susan told us they wanted to."

"Queen Susan couldn't get married in Narnia," the littlest argued, "because she had to mar-" two girls lunged at the little one, clamping their hands over her mouth while another girl screamed to bring Susan's attention to her.

"Mary, whatever is wrong?" she gasped, turning to the girl.

Mary glanced over at the littlest, who was blushing deeply, having heard what the older two hissed in her ear. "It was a bee, I thought it stung me, but it was just a piece of grass," Mary answered quickly, grinning at Susan's confused face.

"I see," she murmured, clearly not seeing, but then she looked to the sky. "It's getting late, you all will be expected home for supper. I know I need to get back, Alberta was all in a tizzy this morning about me making sure I come home on time tonight."

The children exchanged glances.

"I'll escort you home," Dylan said quickly, over the soft giggles of the girls. He helped Susan to her feet and led her away from the gaggle of children, who fell to whispering and laughing as they watched the couple walk off.

"You know, I feel rather inferior, knowing you had kings and princes vying for your heart," Dylan mentioned lightly.

"For my hand, more like. I didn't love any of them near as much as I love you," she admitted, bumping his arm lightly with her shoulder, blushing.

"Even though I'm no prince, with no kingdom for you to rule?"

"I think I like you better for it. As you've heard, my experiences with princes didn't end so well."

"Then perhaps you'll accept my claim to your hand?" Dylan murmured, sinking down to one knee. Susan's eyes went wide at the sight of him kneeling before her. He pulled out the ring, an exact replica of her crown, set with a diamond.

"Oh Dylan, it's beautiful!" she whispered, tears overtaking her.

"Susan Pevensie, Queen of Narnia and my heart, will you marry me?" He asked, laughing with her.

"I will," she laughed, drawing him to his feet and hugging him tightly. He picked her up, whirled her around, both of them laughing with joy, as the neighborhood watched in wonder.

"The wedding was beautiful," Susan Pevensie, hair gone grey, sitting proudly in a rocking chair in front of seven young children, told them. "My handsome groom looked so proud…"

The children watched in awe as their grandmother's words evoked the ghosts of that wedding, the filled church, the children who whispered 'the Queen' and 'Narnia' watching as Susan walked down the aisle, wearing a Narnian style wedding gown, walked down the aisle by her proud uncle, approached her future husband. For a moment, she stood alone, then she was joined by a lion, and her brothers and sister, as they all had been on their coronation day. They stepped forward, growing to the age they were in the world beyond the Shadowlands, walking with their sister, for their sister. The youngest two disappeared, leaving Peter the High King to give his sister away. Then he and the lion faded, returning Susan to her own world briefly. There, in the church, there were whispers among the adults, about the improper dress and the silly wedding vows, which spoke of lions and eternal youth, responsibilities of a king and queen to their kingdom and to each other. It was the oddest wedding, but the children knew. There was doubt on some of the faces of the elder girls and boys, but there was hope in the hearts of the youth. "… it was the most wonderful day of my life, even though I did not have my family there to share it with me. From that day, I was blessed with all of you. I was part of a family again." She smiled, closing her eyes and leaning back in the rocking chair.

"That was a lovely story, Grandmother," the youngest said with a smile.

"And true," an older woman remarked dryly, joining them to put a cup of tea at her mother's side. A shadow passed across the face of Susan Cross.

"They're all true, Helena, do lighten up," she scolded, too low for the children to hear.

"I miss granddad," the oldest grandchild, a boy named Dirk, said sadly.

"As do I," Susan smiled, "But I shall see him soon."

Another woman, who resembled Lucy greatly, called the children to come play with her. "We'll pretend we're in Narnia," she whispered to the kids, who jumped up to join her.

"You and Lucy shouldn't encourage them, Mother," Helena whispered. "They have to grow up soon. They can't play in your fantasy world any more."

"Aslan help you, child," Susan murmured, taking her tea and looking sadly at her daughter. "I fear I can do no more."

Helena sighed and placed a kiss on her mother's cheek before joining her sister and the children in the other room.

Dirk peaked into the room. "Grandmother?" he whispered. Susan looked over at him.

"Yes, Dirk?"

"Did you mean what you said, about seeing him soon?"

Susan smiled. "Not soon enough that I couldn't give you this. Come quickly, love."

The boy scampered over, looking surprised when she pressed a box into his hands. "Take your cousins, and take care of them, Dirk. My journey here is done."

She reached up to press her hand to his cheek, feeling the tears there. "Don't cry. You must be like Peter. You must protect that which is yours. May Aslan's blessing be on you, now and forever."

With that, Susan Cross closed her eyes forever.

She didn't want to open them, even when she felt summer's kiss on her cheeks, followed by the more firm kiss of her husband, brought to her again.

Corin Thunder-Fist flew slightly ahead of his elder brother on the back of Fledge, searching for the young woman he knew would be walking about the garden with her dearest friend, an old faun named Tumnus. When he saw her, he gave a great shout of excitement and directed Fledge to land by her side.

"Corin! Fledge!" Lucy laughed as they landed beside her and her friend. "What brings you here?"

"Cor sent me, my Lady. He and Aravis have gone for your brothers. He says he saw someone approaching the garden."

Lucy gasped in delight, her eyes wide. "That could only be…"

"I will fly your Highness to the gates," Fledge said, and Lucy didn't hesitate a moment to take the arm Corin held out to help her to the flying Horse's back. With one strong push, Fledge leapt into the air, flying. Below him, Aravis and Edmund came flying out of the forest on Hwin and Phillip, joined in the lane by Peter and Cor on Peter's steed and Bree, all headed for the gates. Fledge landed slightly in front of the others, allowing Lucy to tumble off into the grass. She leapt to her feet, grabbing up her skirts so she could rush to the gates, so she could see what she so desperately wanted to see.

The gates were opening, and Lucy, stopping at the threshold of the Garden, looked for one anxious moment out at an empty field, disappointment clear in her eyes and manner.

Then she saw them, the couple, their heads just coming into view, and she gave a great shout of joy. Across the field, Susan gasped, seeing at the gate the one person she had longed to see above all others. Dylan let go her hand as she began to run head long for her sister, who screamed "Susan!" and went pelting out to meet her long lost sister.

Peter and Edmund followed just behind their younger sister, racing towards their long awaited reunion as fast as they could. But joy and need had leant wings to Lucy's feet, so it was that Susan and Lucy met in the middle of the field, Lucy leaping into her sisters open arms, Susan pulling her sister around in a movement that had them both toppling on the ground, still holding tight to each other, tears and laughter consuming them. Edmund reached them, dropping to his knees beside his elder sister, pulling her into a sitting position so that he could crush her to him, holding on for all that he was worth to the only thing that had been missing in his life.

Peter arrived last, having stopped to take in the sight that lay in front of him, the tangle that was Susan between her two younger siblings, already falling into the mothering position she'd always held, as she scanned their faces for signs of anything wrong, perhaps looking for scars of the death they'd endured to come here. But she could find nothing, could find nothing wrong with these beautiful, perfect youths who had waited for her, who had forgave her. Who still loved her, despite everything that had passed. Lucy had said, hadn't she, that she intended to live her life to the fullest, the day she had died. Hadn't Susan battled with herself all those years, knowing that she was living the life her sister had intended to live? But there was no accusation on Lucy's face, there was nothing but love there, and there was nothing but joy on the face of Edmund, whose body was stronger than she'd remembered it, taller than she'd ever remembered him being.

So she turned to Peter, met the eyes of her elder brother, her fellow parent to their younger siblings for all those years. Peter had never had a queen, because there was none that could compare to the sister he'd been given at one year of age. She was his equal and his opposite. They balanced each other perfectly. To have been so long without her was a little like constant carrying around a weight on one shoulder. Right now, he felt balanced. He felt whole. He moved forward to his sister, pulling her to her feet as Lucy and Edmund moved back.

"Hast returned to me at last, have you?" he said, torn between a laugh and sob of joy, as he pulled her in for a hug. She laughed aloud, embracing him with all her strength, laughing even more when he crushed her back, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around in his joy, intent on never letting go. But he had to, to address the man who had followed his sister at a far more decorous pace, and now watched the reunion with sad smiling eyes.

The man knelt to one knee before the High King in respect. "High King Peter, I bring you your sister, to join you again."

Peter reached down to pull Dylan to his feet. When they stood eye to eye, Peter pulled Dylan into a close embrace, filling Dylan with the spirit of Narnia. "You brought her here, and you saved her. I can never thank you enough, Dylan Cross. It is thanks to you that my sister has returned to where she belongs."

Dylan smiled, looking over at his wife, who raised an eye to remind him just exactly how he had saved Susan Pevensie from a life of a waking dream, of the arrow, and both laughed. They were joined by Susan's siblings, simply because it was a moment for laughing, for love.

The five turned to the Garden, where a Great Lion stood, waiting for his daughter to complete her journey to the place where she belonged. It was the beginning of the next chapter, the moment they'd all been waiting for, and it was Time.

Dirk Cross stared at the box in his hands, terrified and excited at the same time, desperate to know for certain if the world he'd grown to love existed. The carved box was a work of art, a jewelry box his grandfather had carved for the woman who sat so still in the chair before him. He knew, looking at her, that she had left him forever, but she'd left him this.

"Aunt Helena, Aunt Lucy?" he called, drawing the adults into the room. They knew, from his eyes, from the way their mother sat, that she was gone, and they called to their brothers as well.

In the confusion, Dirk slipped back into the room where his cousins stood, curiosity evident on every face. "She's gone to see Grandfather," Dirk whispered, and more than one tear appeared in the eyes of the children. "But look, she's left us this."

He showed them the box, and opened it. There, on red velvet, lay fourteen rings- seven yellow, seven green. All of them gasped, knowing exactly what these rings were, and exactly what they could do.

Six pairs of eyes looked to Dirk, whose lips were curling into a smile. There was a slightly desperate look in his eyes- this was the moment of truth, the answer to every question.

"Everyone take two rings," he said, "one yellow, one green." They did, holding them gingerly with handkerchiefs and sleeves, dropping them into pockets, as Digory and Polly had so many years ago. They remembered the story, knew what to do. But they looked to Dirk, whose rings lay in the box still. His breath was fast, his eyes were wide. "Hold hands," he instructed them, and they did, forming a long chain, with him at the end. He slipped the green into his pocket, and only one ring remained. He reached one hand out for that of his youngest cousin, completing the chain, and he reached for the last yellow ring.

The seven grandchildren of the last Queen of Narnia- the Children of the Last Queen, disappeared without a sound.


End file.
